


Potterlock Drabbles

by orithea (orphan_account)



Series: tumblr prompts and 221bees [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Potterlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orithea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Sherlock/Harry Potter crossover drabbles that trickle out while I work on a longer crossover fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Potterlock Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some discussions about head canons regarding John and Sherlock's after-Hogwarts careers.

“Sherlock!” John bellowed. His voice was calm but the urgency was obvious. “Sherlock, I’ve got an auror down and I don’t—”

Sherlock was by his side in an instant, pushing him none-too-gently out of the way to bend over the body.

“He’s still breathing, barely. I didn’t see what hit him; it came out of nowhere and—”

“I’ve got it,” Sherlock said.

The spell was wordless, but then Sherlock _had_  mastered nonverbal casting in their fourth year. John recognized the tracing spell, but the one that followed—the one that had the auror sitting up, coughing violently but  _alive_ —was unfamiliar.

“Okay?” John asked, and when the man nodded weakly, John tossed him a potion from his kit. “Take that, and as soon as you’re able, get back in there.”

“Come on, John,” Sherlock called impatiently. Together they dashed back into the fray.

“Going to explain what that was back there?” John asked him when they were back at the Ministry. Sherlock ended the fight with a rather nasty cut on his shoulder that refused to respond to the typical treatments, so John worked at it with good old Muggle stitches.

“I would,” Sherlock said, “but it’s experimental. Still classified.”

“Bloody Unspeakables,” John said with a grin. “Can’t decide if it’s torture for you to not be able to show off or if you joined just so you’d never have to explain anything to me again.”

“Obviously the former. As though I’d willingly give up your telling me how brilliant I am.” When John neglected to respond, Sherlock raised an eyebrow to prompt him.

“Yes, yes. I don’t know what in Merlin’s name you did, but it  _was_  brilliant. Can’t wait until I’ve been cleared and you can tell me all about it.”

“Finish up those stitches,”—Sherlock grimaced at the indignity of having to use Muggle medicine—”and I’ll demonstrate.”

“But you said it was classified.”

“I’m not allowed to tell you about it. No one mentioned a thing about showing you, without words.”

“Mycroft will know that you did,” John said, knowing that it was the least likely warning to be heeded.

“Yes, and he’ll keep it to himself because even he knows that having all of the relevant tools at the disposal of his best combat Healer is more important than institutional secrecy. He didn’t become Minister of Magic by being  _stupid_.”

“A convincing argument as always.” John finished up the last stitch and released Sherlock’s arm. “I’m not taking my eyes off you until I’m sure that’ll hold. We’ll go to Baker Street so at the very least you won’t be breaking your vows on Ministry grounds.”


End file.
